pity. I have hoped for many months. Until yesterday. But today, we are on the brink. One can remain here, and one lives; one can fall over there, and it is all over. Do you understand? Don't you understand? Why are you laughing?
Leonardo.—Because you make me. You never realize that you are only selfish.
General.—What do you mean?
Leonardo.—Just that.
General.—You are the enemy of every one.
Leonardo.—No, Uncle. Don't be angry. It is the truth. Yours is not one of the worst forms of selfishness. It is the so-called pride of family. Instead of worrying about yourself you worry about your family; that is like your shadow from the other side of the tomb. Your tomb probably interests you less than this shadow that woos you from there.
General.—Difficult phrases.
Leonardo.—Yours is a selfishness that is . . . musical. You also want the production of a little resonance for yourself, like a bell after the last hour was sounded. At bottom it is merely human. But it is very true, however, that all of your interest, your anxiety of today, is not for this little creature that is to be born: for this life for itself, but only inasmuch as you hope that it can prolong the resonance of your name after the last hour has sounded. Isn't that so?
Dora.—Of course! Of course!
Leonardo.—No, Dora. I don't want your approbation.
Dora.—You have said something that is very true. If it were to be a girl . . .
General.—You, what are you coming here to tell me now? Silence! Silence! Silence!
Don Antonio.—Calm yourself. The deuce. After all it does not concern a child of yours.
General.—It concerns the child of my nephew . . .
Dora.—A natural child . . .
Leonardo.—A man of genius has said that all children are natural.
General—He will bear my name. The only one of the family who will bear my name . . .
Dora.—If you give it to him. Because, in the mean time, he will only bear that of his mother.
Don Antonio.—Which is to say no name at all . . .
General.—I have received him into my house. Which